Memories of Lavender
by Miss Rosula
Summary: There wasn't a single day her dear brother didn't cross her mind, but why was it that the thought of Jace only reminded Elaine of “him”? Oh, she knew why, and the reason irked her beyond belief! They both smelt strongly of lavender... MarikOC


Hello, everybody, and welcome to my new MarikOC fic, which is the second part to my **Lavender Duology** that I've begun. The first part is called **Essence of Lavender**. Please enjoy **Memories of Lavender**!

**(Insert Uber Long Disclaimer Here)**

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**MEMORIES OF LAVENDER  
By Jour Reveur  
**

**Chapter 1: Help Me, Harry!  
**

I examined myself in the body-length mirror that hung on my bedroom door, an exotic, young woman gazing back at me with two alluring, hazel eyes, her light brown locks drawn back into a loose and messy bun, highlighting the platinum blonde streaks throughout her hair. Why was I referring to myself in third person? Hell if I know!

I hadn't fussed with applying any makeup; after all, I was only popping into my favourite Cafe—Parfum—for a cup of coffee and a bite to eat. It's a quaint little shop, ironically situated in the heart of Domino City, but despite the hustle and bustle of the traffic, Parfum was a lovely Cafe all the same.

And in case you were wondering, yes; "Parfum" is French (for flavour of tea and coffee). In fact, France is where my origins lay. Until I was fifteen, I had lived in Bordeaux, and then financial issues had forced my parents and I to emigrate to Domino City in America. I shuddered. Although I'd met the gang because I'd emigrated, I could never suppress a shudder at the thought of Battle City...and _him_. Why was it that _he_ always reminded me of my brother, just as my brother reminded me of _him_? Oh, I know why... They both smelt strongly of lavender, my favourite flower, as it was my brother's. And unfortunately for me, there wasn't a single day my dear brother didn't cross my mind: Go figure!

I bitterly banished these thoughts to the back of my mind, instead focusing on my current task once again. Eyes gazing at myself in the mirror once again, I silently approved of my ensemble—dark blue skinnies and a simple, lavender tank top. I admit my butt looked pretty fine in those jeans! "Who's yo' sugar momma?" I jested with a laugh as I buckled up my silver heels, before pocketing a twenty dollar note. Lastly, I grabbed a short-sleeved, leather jacket from a coat hanger nearby my front door and, with nobody to shout out a goodbye to, I clicked the door shut behind me, locking it with a small, silver key, which was accompanied on a key chain by the key to my small, black Sedan: my ride.

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As I entered Cafe Parfum, I began to quietly hum along to the easy listening music that always played in the background. With a smile out of politeness, I came to a standstill at the counter. There were two staff behind the counter, one a female and so the other obviously a male (no, not a transvestite). I knew all staff members here were French because of their accents. I, myself, have a rather noticeable French accent too, although not nearly as strong as most, considering I've lived here for four years, plus I now have absolutely no contact with anyone French, with the exception of Parfum's staff, so my accent only fades away that much faster due to that little detail.

"Bonjour, Mademoiselle Benoit," the young man behind the counter greeted me. He was well aware of my surname and my ethnicity, due to the fact I graced this place with my presence on a regular basis. "What would you like?"

I flashed a warm smile at the man. "Bonjour, Monsieur!" I chimed in French. "Je voudrais un—"

Suddenly, I inhaled a familiar aroma of lavender...and a naturally icy tone soon followed. I stiffened in horror and disbelief entwined, my feet abruptly glued to the wooden floor beneath them. "Bonjour, Mademoiselle. A black coffee would suffice, thank you."

My hazel gaze snapped to the young man a mere meter to my right, stating his order to a woman behind the counter. I let loose a shiver that shook my body, taking in the man's all-too-familiar features. Platinum blond locks, brushing as far as his broad shoulders; a smooth shade of bronze skin, hinting to his African background...and piercing, lavender eyes, lined with a fancy swirl of kohl.

I swallowed hard as my eyes abruptly jolted back to the Frenchman behind the counter. "Err, s-sorry," I stuttered, a faint blush grazing my cheek, "B-But it seems my...uhh...my order has slipped m-my mind." I wasn't lying. I continuously glanced to my left, away from the blond, hoping to hide my face...and thus my identity. "I-I'll be right back," I stated in a hushed tone, flashing a sheepish grin the Frenchman's way before mouthing a 'sorry'.

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Twenty minutes later, I peeked around the corner from the small hallway that led to the bathrooms, growling at the fact blondie wasn't making haste at-frickin'-_all_! "God damn it!" I quietly hissed, lashing a balled fist through the air. I wasn't at all patient, especially when waiting on _him_. Suddenly, I perked up as he took a final gulp of his coffee, before rising from his seat. "Oh, thank the Lor—" I halted in my thanking when I realized blondie was now heading my way, and instead, I turned to hissing curses as I turned to rush into the female toilet. Just my luck. Parfum had two toilets, one for each gender...and both toilets were occupied. "Gah! Bastard!" I growled, hands clawing at my light brown locks in panic.

The hallway must've had a floorspace of about two meters squared and, in horror, I was scanning every speck of it in the hope of finding some means of hiding: another door, a bin to leap into (believe me, I _would_), a plant to hide behind, The Chamber of Secrets. . .An-Anything!

"Harry Potter," I cried, "I need your invisibil—"

I literally jumped when an amused chuckle met my ears, interrupting me mid-sentence. I froze with fear, flinching as I hoped like hell _he_ was laughing at some other spastic girl. Alas, my hope was soon shattered. "Your patience hasn't improved any, has it?"

I inhaled a sharp intake of air—along with a scent of lavender—as I spun on my heels to gaze at an all too effeminate—I mean familiar top. He had certainly grown, for at five foot seven, my gaze used to meet his shoulders. "M-Ma..." I didn't wish to meet his gaze, and quickly selected a new sentence to stutter. "J-Je ne com-comprends pas!" I shakily spoke, hazel eyes snapping to the mahogany wall to my left.

I heard blondie sigh, and knew he was gazing down at me when his hot breath soon brushed across my face. "I know you comprehend my words." He paused for a moment and, to my despair, he then softly breathed out, "_Elaine_."

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I hope you enjoyed this first chapter of **Memories of Lavender**, and please review! Oh, and recommending is great, if you deem this worthy! Thanks goes to **The Duelist's Heiress** for coming up with the title of this fic!


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